The Secret
by Saiyuumi
Summary: One-shot. Ludwig feels more for his roommate than another man should. Oh well. Whatever Feliciano doesn't know won't hurt him...


**Disclaimed. I own nothing of Hetalia besides this story.**

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**The Secret**

If Ludwig was religious, he would thank the Gods that Feliciano was a heavy sleeper.

He felt so much shame already. What he was doing was truly despicable. But it wasn't like he enjoyed it; he honestly hated himself during these times of giving in to temptation. Waking up in the middle of the night to masturbate with the image of his roommate was bad enough. If he were to wake the boy in the process and reveal himself, it would be the worst humiliation he ever faced.

When this shameful routine started, the boy couldn't remember. This had spanning for a few weeks now, perhaps even a month. All Ludwig did know was his mental image wasn't always Feliciano. It was a pretty girl, in fact. But as time dragged on, her look changed. Her beautiful blonde hair went muddy. Her eyes grew brighter, the color of honey. Her busty chest shrunk smaller and smaller until there was nothing left.

He was in the shower when he finally realized she was not a girl at all. It was _Feliciano _in his mind's eye. His frame lying down under him on the tiles, arm draped over his head, crimson blush spread on his cheeks. His entire body wet, the little droplets clinging to his skin, reflecting off the light like precious gems. His hair running in wild tendrils because of the current of water rushing down the drain. Eyes half-lidded, begging for more, for everything.

Ludwig could feel himself twitch at the thought.

Oh, how ashamed his mother would be if she were to find out about his urges. His father would turn in his grave if he were to find out his son fancied other men. His brother, the lady-killer of the family, would lose whatever increments of respect he had for the boy. This is exactly why Ludwig never told a soul. Nobody could know of his orientation.

Not even him, because he wasn't sure himself. Other boys never appealed to him; not now, not ever. He could find pleasure at staring at the girls – subtly, of course – during swim practice. But Feliciano was, without a doubt, the center of his attraction.

Everything about the boy was enthralling – his laugh, his smile, _everything_. Even the minute details nobody else would care to notice. Like the flecks of yellow in his brown eyes, or the freckles hiding beneath his light tan. He was cute, just like a girl.

Throughout the time Ludwig had known his roommate, to say he's a tease would be an understatement. It was all unintentional, no doubt; he was too innocent to consciously do such actions. Like how the boy was so clingy when frightened; how he always gives two kisses on the cheeks whenever they meet, as such is normal in Italian culture; how he finds a need to sleep together, despite having his own bed; or how he eats his food sexually on occasion. That day the Italian was given a Popsicle on a hot midsummer day, Ludwig found himself locked in the bathroom yet again.

The worst situation, by far, happened just before during the day. They were in downtime, because campus doesn't have class on Sunday. Ludwig was studying for a pressing test, while Feliciano was bored on his bed. They started talking personally, and he let it slip he missed his pets – a German shepherd and a golden retriever. How does the Italian respond? By getting on his hands and knees, barking to "_act like a doggy_" to lift his roommate's spirits. Seeing the boy bent like that on his bed, lightly panting and wagging his rear-end to simulate a dog was too much for Ludwig.

_Feliciano really was much too oblivious for his own good. _

Just the thought of that scenario playing out a bit differently, with Feliciano's only desire to please his master, made the boy's need unbearable. Sighing, Ludwig brought a hand to the throbbing muscle. Sitting at the toilet, he worked himself in almost total darkness, only the moonlight shining through the window to illuminate the room. He couldn't have the light on, lest he wanted the chance to tip off his roommate.

He didn't mind the lack of light, though, for two reasons. First, he could pretend he wasn't doing such a shameful deed. Afterwards, it never happened. He could continue to tell himself that breasts were sexy. Second, it allowed his imagination to run full throttle with his Italian lover.

That was all these heated dreams would ever be – a fantasy. Feliciano was straight. Ludwig knew this fact painfully well. He felt a pang deep inside his chest when he was reminded of this fact, be it the other boy's casual flirting with any girl or stories of a date. It tore agonizing emotions through his heart every time, but he could never blame the boy.

He was just too oblivious to know he was capable of hurting_ "big, scary Mr. Ludwig" _so greatly.

If anything, Ludwig blamed himself. He wouldn't dare tell Feliciano his true feelings. Whether he was too rational or too chicken, the words _'I love you'_ will never reach the Italian's ears. He could only dream that their relationship would remain healthy.

During these midnight routines, Ludwig was left a lot of time to think. His mind was clouded with lust and frustration, but a thought was a thought either way. The most distinctive: _How would his hands feel? _From the times their fingers have brushed from passing objects, he could guess soft. Gentle. His touch would be an angelic caress compared to his own callous hands.

With his speed increasing dramatically, the boy let out a low groan as he released. Cleaning himself off and discarding the tissues, folded in on themselves, to the waste basket – flushing them would be too loud - his routine had been completed. This had to be the hundredth time; honestly, he lost count.

Ludwig exited the bathroom as quietly as he could, moving throughout the dorm in a similar fashion. Straining his eyes to see, the clock on his desk read half-past one am – earlier than the routine normally took. Gently, as not to wake his roommate, he lowered himself into bed. Sure enough, Feliciano shifted but continued to snore lightly.

_His secret was safe. _

The boy smiled, scooting away from the heat he so desperately wanted to hold close.

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**I honestly think this is more high T than M, but whatever. It's always better to be safe than sorry. **

**Gerita has way too much fluff. I think it needs something a bit sad; though, this does have an optimistic ending... Oh well. **

**_This_ is how to write sex tastefully. concentrate on thoughts and emotions, instead of what's actually happened. We don't really get any information on how he's jerking off, aside from when he starts and when he ends. This little rules is good for any sexual encounter too. **

**This was a bit of challenge suggested by a friend. I needed to tell a story without any dialogue. Hopefully I did a decent job at it. There are only quotations from Italy, not real dialogue. **

**Please critique my work. I always apprieciate some good constructive critism. :)**


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